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Original   congra 

O^rvt,  Conf  Pam  12rno  ^S"12 

/z„0  D<H113<I34$ 


Ck       -    ...TULATORY    LINES 

TO  BROTHER1  JONATHAN, 

Ox  THE    DICTATORSHIP    OK    ABE  LINCOLN. 

BY  .1.    T.    B.    Of  BICHMOND. 

Ah  !  Jonathan  you  little  thought  when  all  your  hills  and  vales, 
Rang  with  the  cheers  for  "  Honest  Abe,''  the  splitter  of  the  rails, 
That  "  Honest  Ahe''    would  take  his  axe  and  whittle  out  a  throne, 
And  while  you  fought  for  Southern  slaves  would  make  you  all  his  own. 

That  while  you  shouted  for  the  war  and  spoke  of  hempen  collars, 
That  war  would  fall  so  heavy  on  your  dear  Almighty  dollars  ; 
You  filled  the  world  with  Drags  and  boasts  of  warlike  preperation, 
Hut  you,  to  be  a  conscript  now,  beats  all  your  "  Calkelation.-' 

The  South  still  stands  with  dented  shield  but  with  a  dripping  blade, 
While  weak  and  weary  of  the  strife  you  wish  the  storm  were  stayed, 
But  Abe's  splay  foot  is  on  your  throat  you've  given  him  power  to  choke. 
Now  pour  your  blood  and  spend  your  gold — "  He  likes  a  little  joke." 

You  did'nt  "  guess  "  that  you  yourself  would  know  how  thraldrom  feels, 
You  did'nt  "  Calkelate"  on  debt  or  dream  about  bastiles, 
Nor  to  hear  your  orphans'  cry,  nor  see  your  widows'  fireless  hearth, 
To  see  yourself  the  scorn,  the  scoff,  the  laughter  of  the  earth. 

Now  you  must  bow  to  such  a  thing.  "  /  an-nr  it  beats  all  natur,  " 
That  honest  Abe,  your  puppet  once,  should  now  be  your  Dictator  ; 
Hut  crouch  to  him.  you  cowered,  at  the  British  Lion's  growl, 
Then  east  you  down  upon  the  dust,  and  gnash  your  teeth  and  howl. 

Howl,  uot  because  your  once  proud  flag  has  trailed  in  Southern  mud, 

Nor  that  the  very  land  is  red  with  rivulets  of  blood, 

Howl  not  in  rage  and  envy  at  a  South  victorious  still, 

Nor  o'er  your  dead  that  moulder  on  its  every  swamp  and  hill; 

Hut  broken  laws,  and  squandered  gold,  disaster  and  misrule, 

Ay,  howl,  that  e'er  so  "  cute  a  chap  "  was  "  sich  a  tarual  fool." 


Hollinger  Corp. 
pH8.5 


